


Freshers' Week

by Payson_Blinde



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Boys In Love, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Dwight is cute, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff, Freshers' week is a strange and wonderful time, Jake falls easily, Jake's POV, M/M, just a lil bit, what are these inhibitions you speak of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 23:50:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13728624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Payson_Blinde/pseuds/Payson_Blinde
Summary: It's the first week of university, and already Jake's efforts to: 1. get some sleep; 2. stay away from people; and 3. NOT fall in love like an idiot, have all been thwarted. Wanna see?





	Freshers' Week

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the UK for the sake of the legal drinking age being 18.
> 
> Things I wouldn't know as an American:  
> Uni = university  
> Halls = dorm(s)  
> Kebab = drunk people food (frequently not on a stick)

It was Freshers' week. Of course stupid stuff is going to happen. I just didn't expect... _this._

The first week of university, I think we can all agree, is just a seven-day shitshow. Each day you wake up feeling a little more like death, until eventually you're waking up just as fucked-up as you were the night before. At least, that's how it was for the majority of the freshman. Personally, I'm a firm believer in moderation. I don't have any desire to lose my grasp on reality; when I drink, or I smoke, I do it to relax. So for me, Fresher's week is just a really annoying flash of time when I can't get any sleep, because no security guard could possibly tone down the absolute apocalypse raining down on the student halls. I swear the entire building was shaking on its foundation at least two of those nights.

In any case, no, it's not my thing. But when there's _literally_ no point in trying to sleep, and your headphones can only get so loud, you run out of things to do. So I went out, sue me.

At first, I was just going for a walk. I had a lot of time to kill – things usually quieted down at about 5 am. After that, it was just the lone, lumbering stragglers banging on doors because they forgot their keys. But it was only midnight, and it was pretty damn cold, and I didn't really know where to go. It was a new city, so I still hadn't scouted out all the little hideouts for me to occupy at any hour of the day. The only places that were open at this time of night were the ones that profited off the only people awake; drunk college students. And that meant clubs, bars, liquor stores, and really shitty take-out places.

That's how I ended up sitting in a little kabab shop, sipping some Dr. Pepper or something – I figured I should pay rent for the booth – waiting for nothing. I had my phone but I was a little paranoid about it dying before five, so I kept it off. They had a TV playing a rerun of a football game in a language I didn't understand, and one of the employees kept staring at me really awkwardly. I couldn't tell if he wanted to talk to me or wanted me gone. Either way, I wasn't exactly living it up, but it was better than listening to the various sounds that plagued the halls; I seriously doubted the banging on the my left wall had stopped yet.

Maybe thirty minutes into my vigil, the doors opened. I honestly didn't expect people so early, but I figured this was just the beginning of the raids. I felt for a second like I'd been taking the awkward silence for granted.

It was a group of three that came stumbling in; two girls and a guy. Well, I say stumbling. Two of them looked pretty much all there, but one of the girls was basically using the other as a third leg. She was chatty, too. And a little too sociable, I very quickly noticed, as she dragged her crutch over to talk to me.

“What're you doing here?” she demanded, frowning down at my drink like it had insulted her mother or something.

I didn't respond – I didn't need to; the other girl immediately chimed in. She looked only a little out of it. “Don't listen to her,”

“Fuck yes listen to me!” she cried. “It's Freshers' week and you're sitting here all pathetic and alone,”

Ouch. The guy had just finished ordering and came over to intervene. “Meg, c'mon, don't be rude...” He was timid, his voice trailing off. I wondered if he was a little afraid of this Meg girl.

“We're sitting,” Meg declared, letting herself slump into the booth across from me, pulling the other girl down with her. She threw her arm across the table to point at the empty space beside me, looking up at the guy. “Sit,”

The guy looked apprehensive, but she raised her eyebrows and slapped the table. “C'mon! Sit!” and he was down. I slid over, mostly out of pity. Meg stared at me, blinking slowly, and then the frown was back.

“What's your name?” she asked.

I was quiet for a second, sipping my drink, just to see what she would do. She slapped the table again. “What's your name!” she repeated, with a hard kick to my shin.

Again, ouch. “Jake.” I answered, my curiosity sated and leg probably brusied.

The guy was speaking quietly to me at my side. “I swear she's nicer than this,” he murmured, looking down at his lap.

I could believe that, but now Meg was suspicious. “Are you whispering right in front of me? Really?” she whined. “Ridiculous.” She looked over at her friend, who'd just been watching her with the fragile smile of an inexperienced babysitter, then pointed at the guy and me. “They'd make a cute couple, wouldn't they?”

The guy next to me started sputtering some kind of conglomeration of 'Meg' and 'shut up' and 'oh my god'. It didn't seem to deter Meg in the slightest, and she leaned over the table to stare me in the face.

“You like guys, Jake? You like twinks?” she asked, and grabbed the guy's hand, waving it around. “This is a twink. Thoughts?”

I was familiar with the term. I glanced over at him. He was completely flushed in the face, refusing to look at me. I turned back to Meg with a shrug.

A wide grin enveloped her face. “That's not a no!” She put the guy's hand back on the table and slapped it. “That's not a no,” she repeated, more sternly this time, giving the guy a look.

She watched us for a second with a growing smile, just basking in the havoc she'd wrecked. Unfortunately for her amusement, I wasn't particularly bothered, but that guy just _couldn't_ handle it, tripping over his words and fumbling with his fingers, trying with all his might to scold Meg for being “completely inappropriate” and “totally rude”. But I think we can agree, he was only encouraging her.

Meg continued, leaning back with her arms crossed over her chest, her face suddenly switching from domineering-aggressive to straight up cocky. “See, Dwight's been single all his fucking life, and it's real sad. Cause apparently there's not a single gay guy in all of – where you from again?”

“Didcot,” he sighed, defeated.

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, see, that's basically not even a place. So you can't be gay there if it's not... a place. You know what I mean?” she was asking now, looking at me with weirdly genuine concern for my understanding. I can't say I understood in the slightest, but she went on. “So he needs a boyfriend. And you, you know, you're quiet and weird; you'd be perfect!” she concluded with a bright-eyed smile, like it was an epiphany she'd only just had.

I glanced over at the guy – Dwight. In fairness, he was pretty cute, yeah. I kept sipping my drink, wondering how long it'd be until they left.

Their food was ready. Dwight seemed to take the opportunity to swing out of the booth and make some distance. I was getting hopeful as Meg and the other girl were shuffling out of their seats, but then Meg grabbed my arm hard and my dreams were dashed.

“You're coming with us,” she ordered.

I looked up at her. Just one more time, I had to push her. It was morbid curiosity. “No thanks.”

The other two _visibly_ tensed. Meg glared. She didn't say another word, and just started dragging me out by the sleeve. I liked my sleeves the size they are, I'd been getting kinda bored, and I was more than a little intrigued by the situation. And in that moment, those feelings outweighed my general distaste for human company, so I got up and followed.

I didn't even know where we were going. All I knew was that this girl, Meg, had one arm hooked on mine, and was ordering this cute Dwight guy to walk next to me. So I guess, what could really go wrong? 

A lot. A lot could go wrong.

The whole way down the street, Meg was asking me questions about myself, interluded by long, rambling stories of her own, typically about the friends she had in Birmingham, whose life expectancies could not have exceeded twenty-five. Eventually we arrived in a club. I'm assuming it was the girl on Meg's other arm who actually knew the plan for the night, since Meg seemed way too far gone to have actually gotten us somewhere in one piece.

As soon as we arrived, Meg started buying me drinks. And I don't really drink just for the hell of it, but I also know better than to turn down a free buzz. I let her get me a few, but she was apparently dead-set on getting me fucked up. Eventually I just outright refused to have another, and the other girl tore her away before she started throwing a fit. Dwight was giving me a sympathetic look. I decided it'd be nice to talk to him, but it was way too loud in the club. I gestured for him to follow me, and he held onto my jacket as we headed out.

I leaned up against the wall right outside, where there were still bouncers around – I didn't want to freak him out by secluding us.

Immediately, he was apologizing. “I'm so sorry about Meg, I swear she's not normally like this. She just gets pushy when she's drunk.” he insisted.

I shrugged. “You don't need to apologize. That's her fault, not yours.”

“Well – still,” he sighed, and leaned against the wall beside me.

I looked over at him. He was a little shorter than me. “You don't have to listen to her; you know that, right?”

He nodded, shrugging. “Yeah, no, she's normally – I mean, she's... assertive, I guess, but she's not mean.”

“Hm.” I slid my hands in my pockets. “What about the other girl?” Not sure why I was asking, really. 

“Nea? She's okay, kinda quiet.” he replied. “We're all flatmates – we get along pretty well so far.” He looked up at me. “What about yours?”

“Don't really know mine,” I answered. “We keep to ourselves.”

“Seems kinda lonely,” he murmured, looking down at the road.

I just shrugged. “I don't mind,”

“I believe it. How long were you planning on waiting at the kebab place?” he asked, a smile in his voice, and I glanced down just in time to catch it. He really was pretty cute.

“Five, maybe,” I answered. I knew it sounded stupid when I said it out loud, but he gave a little laugh, so it was pretty much worth it.

“You should go to the library next time, that what I do. It's always open, and they have comfy chairs,” he recommended, still smiling. “And fewer drunk people.”

I watched him for a second. That was legitimate advice. From a complete stranger, to help me feel less shitty, just for the sake of helping. That was... new. “Thank you,” I replied, but I wasn't sure how to make it seem more genuine. I pointed my thumb back at the club. “Can I get you a drink?”

Dwight seemed to think for a second, and then nodded slowly. There was something slightly devious in his gaze, and I was more than a little interested. “Yeah, not from here though. I'm kinda picky.” The caution retuned to his gaze, and he asked carefully, “Is that okay?”

I pushed myself off the wall, nodding. “Course.” Then, because I wanted to see him smile again, “Whatever you'd like.” Worked like a charm – but I wasn't in control in the slightest.

Dwight led us further down the street, into a little pub. It was warm and cozy, like any good pub should be, but then Dwight's drink was ridiculously cheap, and the bartender started asking Dwight what he wanted to watch, and I was getting really confused. Dwight looked over at me.

“They've got a cinema room downstairs,” he told me. “Want to watch something?”

I blinked. “A cinema room?” I inquired.

He nodded. “Yeah, it's just a small one. Wanna see?” he asked, a little giddy, and I could hardly deny him.

He showed me downstairs – I would have been suspicious if it weren't for all the little red signs I was beginning to notice – and into this little room. It had a staggered floor, layered with beanbag seats and cushions, and a projector that sat at the top on a cabinet in the back. I looked at Dwight, frankly kind of amazed.

“They let you use this?” I asked, looking around.

“Yeah, my uncle's the owner,” he explained, and put his drink down on the cabinet. “Everything's in here, wanna pick something?” he asked, kneeling down to open it.

I knelt down beside him and looked in. They had a lot of old classics, and a few really new ones. I wondered if Dwight had recommended any of the new additions – they were mostly action and comedies, Marvel and the like. 

“I'm not picky,” I answered, but Dwight shook his head.

“I've seen them all and they're all good, so it's up to you.” he insisted.

Looking down at the bottom row, they weren't all films. I frowned. “Is there a PS4?” I inquired.

Dwight nodded. “Yeah, my cousin and I play a lot. Anything look interesting?” he asked, grabbing his drink from off the cabinet and taking a sip.

I scanned them. His cousin was probably pretty young, judging. But there was one that caught my eye: Dead by Daylight.

“You guys have surround-sound?” I asked, and he nodded. I pulled out the box, and he grinned.

“ _That_ gets kinda intense. Wanna try?” he inquired, and there was a little glint of mischief in his gaze that I couldn't say no to, as if I'd wanted to.

“Yeah, for sure.” I answered, and I could feel myself cracking a smile. Dwight's eyes stayed on me an extra second – I remembered I probably hadn't smiled in front of him all night. Then he took the box and looked away quickly, like he'd only just realized what he was doing. This was about the time I started really cursing the shit out of my luck.

Let me explain.

I'd made it a good few days in a new town, new coursemates and flatmates and the like, all without getting hung up on someone. I'm pretty distant, I know I am, and most of the time, I take forever to start actually taking a liking to people. But sometimes, on very rare occasions, I'll fall for someone, just, immediately. And there's nothing I can do about it, I'm just all of a sudden flat on my face, wondering what the fuck just happened, because I seriously can't get this person off my mind. And it's not good, it's dangerous, because most of the time, things just don't work out. It leaves you hurting a lot. And there's not a lot of pain I can't deal with, I have a pretty high tolerance for that kind of stuff – but losing people... That's something different. I really, really struggle with that. So when you spend one night with a stranger and end up head over heels, ready to sell your life away to see them smile, and then you never talk to them again, it hurts like a _bitch_.

At this point, I didn't know what to do, really. I didn't want to suddenly just walk out just because I was afraid I'd start liking this guy, but I also didn't want to wake up tomorrow falling into a pit of despair, wondering why the fuck I let myself do this again. But he was already loading up the game, so I figured we might as well play.

The surround-sound was _really_ cool. I had a couple good games, and by then Dwight had finished his drink, so I passed over the controller. He was a lot more... outgoing, I guess, than me. He was going for some pretty risky saves, and kind of dangerously confident around the killer. Apart from missing about every other skill check and accidentally getting his teammates found once or twice, he was actually doing pretty well.

He laughed, throwing down a pallet on the Doctor. “I forgot I'm better when I'm drunk!”

I was thinking about it, and it kind of made sense. Earlier in the night, he'd seemed pretty anxious, whether about me or Meg or whatever else. But after he'd had a few, he was a lot more confident. I had to wonder how unsure of himself he was during the daytime – not too much, though. I had to remember this was a very temporary friendship, and it wasn't going to become anything else. We'd probably exchange Snapchats by the end of the night and never talk again, and that was fine.

After his round, he gave me the controller again.

“I'm gonna get another drink, you want anything?” he asked.

“I'm good,” I answered, starting to make a killer lobby.

I heard him sigh, and looked over to see him rolling his eyes. “C'mon, let me get you something. Water, even.”

I smiled. “Whiskey, whatever they've got.”

“That's more like it.” Dwight replied with a grin, and started upstairs.

A minute later, he came down with a couple drinks, and as soon as I got a taste, I stared at him, eyebrows raised. “How much was this?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Don't worry about it, everything's really cheap for me. And you bought me one,” he reasoned.

“Well yes, you're supposed to buy cute people drinks.” I don't. Know. Why. I said that. But he was flushing red and he opened his mouth but no words came out and I had to look away and my game was starting and – just, fucking hell. This is why I can't have nice things, like real emotional security. Shit just falls out of my mouth sometimes. I was going to end up falling for this guy and I didn't even know him.

But then I did what was possibly even stupider than that – I started drinking. And I don't know what it was these guys were selling, but that whiskey was _not_ messing around. We kept going back up for more, I couldn't even get myself to worry about the price. I started playing like shit, we both did, and it was hilarious. Dwight's confidence boost had peaked a little while back and now he was just straight-up reckless, we couldn't hit a skill check for the life of us – at some point we totally lost the plot and spent a good portion of the games just dancing around the map, teabagging and spinning around our poor teammates who were actually trying to do generators, shout-singing The Circle of Life on top of hills until the killer came and knocked us flat on our asses.

And at some point, I was watching Dwight from the corner of my eye, and I thought, you know what? Fuck everything I think, fuck reason and foresight and whatever else. I wanted to fall for Dwight. He was cute and nice and funny and I liked him. All I wanted to do was be here, and give this sweet little bastard my heart, laugh with him, find all the little things there are to love about him, and let him drag me through broken glass for the next week.

It must have been three or four in the morning when we started to crash. The death screen had been splayed across the wall for a good couple minutes, we were just laying back in the beanbags, talking about everything.

“Why'd you go to university, anyway?” I asked him at one point.

Dwight shrugged. “I gotta. I wanna get a job, make money, be... normal, and all.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I dunno.”

“You don't want a job?” he asked.

“I've got some gripes with the system. But... I like being alive, so I'll go with it,” I sighed.

“Gripes like what?” he asked, his head falling to the right to look at me.

I shook my head. “Everything. It's population control – feels like it, anyway. Just eats you alive.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

I let out a slow breath. “You wanna live, you gotta throw yourself into the system, right? You give yourself over to how people want to do think, and act, and you do what you're told because if you don't, you're scum of the fucking earth.

"Humans, you know, we think we're so advanced. We think we're above... animals, and savagery, and shit. But you'd think by now, if we're so fucking great, we wouldn't be killing ourselves with stress, and poverty, and illness, and hatred. In the wild you got a problem, you either run away or you fight. And people – we can't. We gotta sit there and take it. Society, capitalism, religion, government, you know, it just mires you in this... this _tar_. Tells you it's your fault you can't fix your own problems, but it's not like you asked for this shit. But it doesn't matter, because if they profit off your problems, they'll cut off your hands and tell you it's yours to fix. It's tar, all of it. It just keeps you there. Doesn't even have the decency to kill you, most times; you've just gotta rot.”

I looked back at Dwight. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't that kind, sympathetic look in his eyes. I watched him, hopelessly losing control of the situation, as he pushed himself to the edge of his beanbag and stretched an arm toward me.

“Hug?” he murmured. I felt myself nodding. He leaned over and held me close to him, his head turned into my neck. And he told me in the quietest voice, “It's gonna be okay.” And I put my arms around him, and for that moment, I believed it.

He pulled away, and offered me a smile. And I pushed myself slowly up and took it. I brought my hand into his hair, and I felt like he would fade away any second, so I took that moment and tried to savor it the best I could, tried to remember everything about it: the beanbag sinking beneath me, his soft hair in my fingers, the sharp sweetness on his lips, the warmth of him that tempted me endlessly closer.

I let him go. He didn't move. He stared at me, wide-eyed. I was suddenly feeling very, _very_ sober.

“Shit, I'm sorry.” I muttered, starting to stand.

“Wait, I – no, it's okay,” Dwight started, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I looked over at him. This guy, he'd never even dated before. Probably hadn't been kissed before, either. But now he had – by a drunk stranger. Because _I_ couldn't keep my hands to myself. He was just being nice, and I... Goddamn it.

“Just stay,” Dwight requested quietly, looking up at me, and I couldn't tell what it was in his eyes, maybe hope or fear or panic, I really don't know. But I shook my head.

“I can't.” I told him seriously, and got myself to stand, pushing my hair out of my eyes.

“But... why not?” he asked, sitting up. I just shook my head, but he took the leg of my jeans in his hand. “Please, why not?” he insisted.

“Because you deserve better than that,” It fell out of my mouth before I'd planned it, but it was exactly right. “Because I don't trust myself right now. Not around you.”

Dwight was quiet, and the fist around my jeans fell away. “Okay,” and his voice was quiet and cracked, like he might've been about to cry. And it fucking broke my heart. But I couldn't.

I knew if I sat down I wouldn't get up. But I bent down, and kissed the top of his head. And he looked up at me, and suddenly he was close again, and god... All I wanted to do was kiss him again, and ease back onto the ground, and pull him into my lap, and my hand was already touching his jaw, and god _damn_ it.

“I'm sorry.” I whispered. I don't know what I was more sorry for, leaving or not leaving sooner. Either way, he was nodding up at me, and I was walking away. Then I was shutting the door, and paying the tab, and I was outside, in the dark.

And slowly, I found I could think again. And I wanted to punch something. What the _fuck_ was that? What was I doing? Bad enough I let myself fall for someone in the first week of uni, a guy I'd doubtless never see again, but then I kiss him, and nearly sleep with him? A guy who's never dated in his life? A sweet, wonderful, beautiful guy like him, and every thought in my head was screaming for me to do, what exactly? Treat him to a drunken one night stand, like a real gentleman?

I stuffed my hands in my pockets and marched myself back to my halls. I didn't do it. I knew I didn't. And yet I still managed to fall asleep in my clothes, feeling like a piece of human trash.

The next week comes around. It's been a rough few days. I beat myself up about that night every time it creeps into my mind, and I can't stop it. But more than that, suddenly, I'm realizing how isolated I really am, and I feel... lonely. But soon enough, I have my first proper lecture, I try to focus on the things that matter.

The lecture is intense, and chock-full of information. I'm pretty sure I've missed about a third of it, and I'm already coming up with ridiculous acronyms and abbreviations to help my shorthand. The lecture comes to and end, and I pack up with a heavy sigh, stand up to leave, and – holy. _Shit._

Dwight. He's staring at me, open-mouthed from the next aisle over. People are poking my shoulder to move, and I start walking toward him. I don't know what to do. But people are pushing me now, the wrong way, up the stairs. I have to keep moving, and he's gone in the crowd, I can't see him anymore. We all flood out into the big central room, and everyone's making for the doors. I drift out to the edge of the crowd, waiting. What would I say? Would he even want to see me? Would I even see him from here? What if he - _oh fuck._

He's there, he's looking at me, he's... he's smiling. And I feel my the tension melt from my face and I walk toward him, floating, I'm on autopilot. I have to root my feet in the ground and strap my hands to my sides, because what I really want to do is wrap him up in my arms and steal him away from here and give him my heart and take his lips with a real kiss, like he deserves.

He approaches me with a quivering smile, pink dusting his cheeks. “Hi,” he murmurs, and how is it that I missed him so badly? How is that possible? How is it possible that I could want legitimately nothing in this moment but for him to stay beside me? It's terrifying, and dizzying, and it's slipping the sense right from my grasp and there's nothing I can do about it. But I'm looking into his eyes and he's beautiful, so what does it matter?

“Wanna get lunch?” I'm suddenly asking him, and he looks at me with surprise – and I can't breathe – but he smiles again.

“Yeah, that sounds great!” he chimes, and if you're wondering if angels come to earth, I can tell you they do. But I've only found one. And he's mine.


End file.
